Meet Marisol
Her story begins with an unanswered message—and a question she can’t shake.
Some stories come from a plan. Others begin with a spark—a need to fill in the lives of characters who won’t stay silent.
Marisol’s story begins with a message she hasn’t opened—and a voice she’s not sure she’s ready to hear.
Readers sometimes ask me, “Do you know where Marisol is headed?”
I tell them, not exactly. But life is full of possibilities, isn’t it?
(These stories first appeared as part of my Daily Dose of Fiction on Substack. I’m now gathering them to stand on their own—or to one day become part of the Women of the Canyon series.)
A Message Stays Unopened
The text came in at 7:42 p.m.
Riley’s name.
Marisol didn’t open it.
Not because she was angry—those years had passed.
But because she’d spent so long packing her feelings away, she wasn’t sure she could survive unpacking them.
She had built a stable life. Predictable. Quiet.
Friends called it peaceful.
She called it safe.
Riley had left.
Marisol stayed behind.
She kept the box of memories, just in case.
But that message? She didn’t open it.
Not yet.
But she didn’t delete it either.
The Life She Chose Instead
The message sat unopened.
Marisol cooked dinner like always—chopping mindlessly, the knife keeping time against the board. She fed the neighbor’s cat. Folded laundry. Paid a bill.
The rhythm of a life she had designed to be fine.
She allowed the memories to flow through.
Everyone said she was the steady one. The one who stayed. The one who managed.
But sometimes, she wondered what it had cost. Did she want to be known as steady? Was that boring?
She used to sketch at night. Stay up arguing about shapes and space, beauty and what mattered.
She hadn’t touched a pencil in months.
She’d told herself she didn’t miss it.
But lately, something had begun to stir.
The feeling wasn’t loud, but it was insistent.
Not regret exactly.
More like a whisper:
Is this all there is?
Marisol turned off the stove and opened the window wide.
She let the night air in.
And for once, she didn’t push the thought away.
Designing Buildings But Not My Life
Marisol lay in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling fan’s slow rotation. The house was quiet. She used to love that. Now, it echoed a little too much.
What am I doing with my life?
The question had been with her for months. Not in a dramatic, crisis way. Just… persistent. A tap on the shoulder at 2 a.m.
She used to think she’d design beautiful buildings. Spaces that made people feel something.
Instead, she ran budgets. Approved tile samples. Smiled through meetings. And on weekends? She “rested,” but never felt restored.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture what she wanted next. Nothing came clearly.
But something inside her whispered:
It’s time to find out.
The Message Still Sits Unopened
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Riley’s message still sat unopened. But tonight, Marisol didn’t care about that.
She just wanted to hear her voice.
She tapped Contacts.
Paused.
Her thumb hovered over Riley’s name.
That familiar flutter in her chest returned.
So much had changed.
And yet, part of her still felt 25, curled on a couch with Riley, sketching dreams on napkins. She imagined Riley answering. What would she say?
But this time, she didn’t put the phone down because of fear. She put it down because she realized she wasn’t calling to fix the past.
It had been too long.
She was hoping for something that probably did not exist anymore.
But… Riley had messaged her. . .
Marisol’s not the only one with unfinished business — these women have more to say.